


Cause I've Been Going Crazy, I Don't Want To Waste Another Minute Here

by IceSword46



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/M, Gen, Human AU, M/M, Road Trips, moderate shade thrown at Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceSword46/pseuds/IceSword46
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The idea has always been there: the two of them, Stiles’ Jeep, and the expanse of the open road. Trees and road markers and crappy gas station coffee and music playing far more loudly than either of their parents would ever approve of around the house. It’s always been a dream of Stiles and Scott to get away from Beacon Hills, if only for a short while, because there has to be more to life than lacrosse, broken families, and health problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cause I've Been Going Crazy, I Don't Want To Waste Another Minute Here

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the songs on the RTP Mix or any of the places they go or anything that if I said I owned could get me in trouble.  
> Title comes from Weightless by All TIme Low
> 
> Inspiration: http://neptunepirate.tumblr.com/post/44420579949
> 
> Notes: I started this fic while bored at work after watching Motel California and wanting Teen Wolf happiness.  
> I finished it the day of the midseason finale, I just was afraid to post it cause I haven't written anything in a long time, let alone posted it before but Teen Wolf comes back in a month so why not. I tried to make everything as accurate as possible such as paramedic qualifications and locations and the time frame.

The idea has always been there: the two of them, Stiles’ Jeep, and the expanse of the open road. Trees and road markers and crappy gas station coffee and music playing far more loudly than either of their parents would ever approve of around the house. It’s always been a dream of Stiles and Scott to get away from Beacon Hills, if only for a short while, because there has to be more to life than lacrosse, broken families, and health problems.

* * * *

Lydia goes to Harvard, everyone knew she would. Stiles likes to think she’ll mention him when she eventually does win her first Fields Medal. Jackson goes to Cal Poly to play lacrosse ( _“Jackson, are you sure you don’t want to go to UC Santa Cruz? It sounds much cooler to be a Banana Slug than a Mustang,” Stiles remarked one day_ ) and vanishes with a squeal of his Porsche’s tires. Allison heads to a small school out East ( _Stiles doesn’t remember where off the top of his head, though he’s sure Scott could tell him if he asked_ ). He wonders if she ever realized that she followed her family’s trend of never staying in one place for too long. She used to write them both, saying that she liked the feeling of getting mail. Then sophomore year came and the letters slowly stopped.

Stiles goes to the local community college even though he dreamed of bigger things. But single-parent salaries make things difficult financially and it was the best they could do. Scott decided to look into other programs since he wasn’t going to a school where he could get a Bachelor’s degree. After many long discussions with his mom he decided to start taking EMT courses. He took on less hours at Deaton’s office to dedicate more time for the necessary courses but it still meant many long nights of various biology and anatomy lessons after finally closing up for Deaton. Stiles went in undecided, which meant a class schedule full of gen eds.

The original RTP ( _Road Trip Plan – Scott started the code name_ ) involved Disney World, naturally. Their parents weren’t too keen on the idea, something about 6 people and their luggage crammed into a vehicle for almost two whole days of driving across the country to a park that had its twin sister in the state they lived in ( _"it wouldn’t even be a road trip then!" Stiles had argued_ ). Scott and Stiles knew it was a pipe dream anyways, but it was nice to have. But then Scott’s dad walked out and Stiles’ mom died and the two of them learned that all dreams go up in flames eventually.

The new RTP was formulated several years later with the help of some of Stiles’ dad’s scotch and the old road map found under Stiles’ bed, messy blue and red crayon marks still intact. And if when the map was eventually folded away those crayon lines were a little smeared from tears shed for dreams and memories since passed, neither of them commented on it.

* * * * *

Scott sees Stiles the day before the 10th anniversary of his mom’s death and everything seems normal. Lydia got back a few days before so the three of them go out to lunch and catch up. The catching up is mainly on their part – Beacon Hills had never been a very eventful town – but they like hearing about Lydia’s college experience and she’s excited to hear that Scott had officially completed enough hours and passed the NREMT exam to earn his paramedic license. “I imagine Deaton was upset over the fact that the dogs would no longer have one of their own to watch over them,” she laughs. Scott looks at her, confused, and she elaborates with a grin, “it’s because you’re just a giant puppy yourself, McCall.”

Scott gives a small smile at Lydia’s joke but shrugs off the compliment about the license.

After checking almost obsessively about if he had earned his license or not for several days after taking the exam, he had found out last week he did indeed pass. The website said it could take up to a month and a half to get his actual license but on the day he went in to get his official certificate his mom takes the day off anyway.

The two of them, along with Stiles and his dad all go out to lunch to celebrate at Scott’s favorite diner. As they’re walking in a man who looks to be a couple years older than Scott and Stiles is walking out with a girl closer to their own age. “Congratulations, Scott,” the man said formally as he shook Scott’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“You too, Derek!” Scott said cheerfully. “I take it you and Cora went and picked up your certificates earlier?” 

“Hell yeah, dude! We’re official!” Cora said excitedly as she high-fived him. Scott quirked an eyebrow at Derek who gave him a small smirk. 

”She’s already looking into jobs up north, I knew she was just using me for my apartment until she finished the program,” Derek informs him. 

”Hardly, brother!” Cora argued. “I wanted to stay with you because I’d be able to see you more often before I went up north!” Derek pushed her gently and she shouldered him back. 

”We’re headed over to Laura’s, I’ll tell her you said hi,” Derek told him as he made to head down the sidewalk.

”Thanks, Derek,” Scott said with a smile. “Bye, Cora.”

“See you around, Scotty,” Cora said with a spirit-finger filled wave as the two went on their way. 

“Jesus, tall, dark, and broody, much? Who mugged and shot his parents in an alleyway right in front of him?” Stiles asked as they sat down at a table. 

“Who, Derek? He’s a giant softy. No one shot and killed his parents, though his uncle was shot and killed by an ex-girlfriend who he emotionally abused. Based off of the two of them, it doesn’t sound like it was any great loss, though.“ Melissa choked on her water at how nonchalantly Scott said that last sentence and he shrugged. “Besides, the one you really need to watch out for is Cora. She’ll kick your ass into next week and you’d thank her for it.” 

”Sounds like I _definitely_ need to look out for Cora,” Stiles said with a smirk and Scott chuckled. 

The sheriff handed him a card before he and Stiles leave that has more money than Scott felt comfortable accepting but Stiles’ dad gave him a loving smile and Scott hugged him tightly. “I was actually going to get you an actual gift but your mom alr – ,” he started to say but Melissa cut him off with a look. The sheriff chuckled and the two left.

Later that night he and his mom went out for dinner to restaurant that was fancier than the two of them were used to. He ordered steak and his mom ordered lobster and she conned the waiter into giving Scott a glass of wine.

“He just earned his degree today and forgot his wallet in our rush to get there,” she explained and Scott gave an embarrassed smile. “He could literally go get it from our car if you want proof. I just want to have a nice dinner on my one day off this week with my son.” The waiter looked around quickly before giving in as long as they promised to keep quiet about it.

Scott stared at his mom in mom with wide eyes before finally saying, “that was awesome, mom,” with a disbelieving grin. Melissa raised her glass to him and smirked.

The rest of the dinner wasn’t as eventful. Melissa kept looking over at him with proud eyes and it at least somewhat dimmed Scott’s fears about starting this next chapter of his life because he figured, well, if he turns out anything like his mom when he reaches her age then he’ll be more than okay. After the waiter took away the bill, she pulled a box out of her purse. “Mom what –?” Scott began but she shushed him.

“I know you’ve heard me say that the only thing that worked between your father and I was this watch,” she began, with a nod to her own wrist. “You probably wondered why I kept it after your dad left, that it would just serve as a painful reminder but I chose not to look at it that way. You’ve worked so hard for as long as I can remember. School, lacrosse, Deaton’s. All those hours in the field and at clinicals and all the studying you’ve done these past few months.” She looked even closer to tears than she had during dinner but then she adds with a laugh, “but this really is a fantastic watch,” and Scott laughs too. “What I’m trying to say is that I want you to have one too. That way, when I look at it, I won’t see it as a reminder of him but as a reminder of you. You’re the best son I could have ever asked for, Scott. It doesn’t exactly match but I think it’ll look good on you. I hope you like it. Stiles’ father wanted to get you one, but I beat him to the punch.”

Scott opened the box and immediately saw his own awe-struck face reflected in the glass. The stainless steel still gleamed in the low lighting of the restaurant and the metal was cool as he slid it onto his wrist. He looked up at his mom’s anxious eyes. There were tears on her cheeks and Scott would’ve been lying if he had said his eyes weren’t watery too.

“I love it,” he stammered because he really, really does. Melissa let out a relieved laugh and Scott jumped out of his chair to hurry around to the other side of the table and hug her tightly.

“Thank you so much,” Scott said quietly into her hair.

“I’m glad you like it. I love you so much. I’m so proud of you, Scott.”

“I love you too, mom.”

Lydia laughs loudly and Scott flashes back to the conversation that’s actually happening in front of him.

Lydia acknowledges Stiles’ love for gathering information and supports his decision to go into communications as he had officially declared earlier that semester. “Be a broadcast journalist, ooh, or a PR-something. You’d get paid to talk; it’s like a wet dream for you.” Stiles sticks his tongue out at her but doesn’t disagree.

Scott can tell that Lydia is aware of what tomorrow is and Scott wonders if she planned for it to fall this way. She hasn’t mentioned it in any aspect but she spends a lot more time engaging with Stiles rather than him, and he doesn’t think it has to do solely with the fact that she has always been closer to Stiles than Scott. Scott spends more time watching the two of them than taking part in the conversation. Sadness flashes across Lydia’s bright eyes every so often. It’s always gone a moment later – Stiles hates the pity, neither of them has to hear him verbalize it to know it – but when Stiles has distracted himself with his hands or his sandwich and is looking away, Lydia glances at Scott with a gentle, knowing look that Scott doesn’t know how to respond to.

She hugs them both when they get up to leave. Scott doesn’t miss the way Stiles hugs her a little tighter and a little longer than usual. He watches her hand card through Stiles’ hair – he decided to grow it out in college – and sighs softly. When she hugs Scott she whispers, “watch out for him, yeah?”

“I always do,” he breaths back.

“I know,” she replies and just like that she’s pulling away, bright eyes and shimmering hair vanishing down the street as she says excitedly that they’ll spend all day out by her pool soon. Stiles is quiet the drive back and Scott can’t figure out how to arrange all the words that are tangled up in his head that he feels like he should say.

Stiles had only mentioned the anniversary once, in passing, the year before. He showed up at Scott’s house with a bottle of Jack and an already rolled joint and neither of them verbalized why he was there that night, not that Stiles ever needed an excuse to be there to begin with. Scott’s mom was working third shift and wouldn’t be home until morning, but Scott figured she would understand if she did see an empty bottle lying around. He kept the window open to flush out the smell though; he didn’t think she’d be that understanding.

Later, the TV was playing softly in the background as the two of them lay side by side on Scott’s bed, neither speaking. For all of Stiles’ babbling, he never really spoke about his mother, which Scott understood don’t get him wrong, but Scott could tell Stiles wanted to talk about it, Scott just wasn’t Stiles knew how, he’d blocked it for so long. So when Stiles whispers, “it’ll be ten years next time,” Scott silently laces his fingers with Stiles’ own and hopes Stiles understands. Stiles squeezes Scott’s hand once, gently, and Scott thinks he does. Stiles doesn’t mention what he said the next morning.

(If Melissa did pick up on the open window, she doesn’t mention it either.)

* * * * *

It’s four days after the 10th anniversary when Stiles shows up at Scott’s house with Left 4 Dead 2 and a pack of Miller Lite bought with the fake ID Jackson had begrudgingly gotten each of them as a graduation gift. ( _“It’s pathetic to see you have to beg every time you wanna get trashed,” he had said as he tossed them onto the table in front of them at Lydia’s graduation party._ ) Scott hadn’t seen Stiles since he had dropped him off after lunch with Lydia and he’s thankful the semester had ended the week before, not sure how Stiles would’ve dealt with both finals and the anniversary. Stiles doesn’t say anything as they head to Scott’s room and as selfish as it sounds, Scott wants him to. Scott wanted his best friend to be able to talk about his mom. Admittedly, Scott rarely brought up his dad to Stiles, but that’s because while his dad may be gone, at least he’s not gone.

It was easier to talk about after it first happened and they were young and clung to each other in a way that foreshadowed the depth of their friendship that would come in the following years. Scott’s dad technically wasn’t around when Claudia died, but he wasn’t really around for a long time before that happened, either. He was gone so often and would come back so late.

Scott’s mom didn’t pick him up from soccer practice one day in February and he had to get a ride home with Jackson. He walked inside to his mother sitting alone in a half-empty living room, crying softly into her hands and Scott immediately realized that his father had finally left them. When she heard the front door open she got up in a frenzy, apologizing over and over for not picking him up from practice. She wiped away the few stray tears and Scott told her it was okay. He made dinner for them for the first time that night: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. His mom told him that although she was okay with his dad leaving, it still hurt to finally happen and that’s why she was crying. She told him it was okay if he wanted to cry too but he didn’t.

It wasn’t until he was at Stiles’ house the following night, Stiles’ dad had just come into the room to say good night and that they should go to bed, when he finally did. The door closed and suddenly Scott found that he couldn’t breathe and it wasn’t because of his asthma. Then he was pleading with Stiles to answer why his dad didn’t want to stick around to tell him good night anymore and Stiles hugged him until he began to breathe normally again.

Scott stayed over at Stiles’ house more than his own for a while after that; Stiles’ mom fretting that he needed fresh cooked meals that a nurse mother didn’t have the time to make. But then Stiles’ mom got sick.

Scott saw more of the cancer’s effect on the Stilinski family than he probably should have. There would be nights when Stiles stay over at Scott’s and would cling to Scott’s arms so tightly in his sleep his small hands would leave bruises and scratches from when he would pull away in nervous fits. Stiles would sometimes cry in his sleep. Sometimes Scott would cry beside him, knowing he couldn’t do anything to help.

Even though they weren’t related, Claudia’s death hit both Scott and Melissa hard. She was like a second mom to Scott and she was one of Melissa’s best friends. After his dad walked out, his mom had to work time into her already busy schedule to make food that Scott could heat up later in the microwave while she was still at work. After Claudia died she started making double the serving size to bring over to the Stilinski’s or she would refill Stiles’ medications prescriptions on her way home from work because his dad hadn’t left the couch that day. Scott would later understand that Melissa was trying to repay Claudia for watching over her family by watching over Claudia’s.

Stiles would talk about it then but everything changed the anniversary before their freshman year of high school. The realization that his mother wouldn’t see him enter or leave high school, or go to prom, or so many other things that all mothers should get to do suddenly hit him that year in the middle of a game of Mario Kart and he wound up sobbing into Scott’s shoulder, grasping desperately at Scott’s shirt for some sort of stable ground, for an anchor. The years after that, Stiles would numb himself of that pain with anything he could and he didn’t like to talk about it anymore.

So Scott chose to bare his anger, his sadness, his confusion, to Allison, who may not have been able to offer an understanding, but she would try as best she could and Scott owed her so much for that. He misses Allison more than he lets on to Stiles. He doesn’t miss her in a romantic way… often, but in a way that there were some things he could more easily divulge to Allison than Scott, and that saddens Scott. For the glaring similarity in Scott and Stiles’ family dynamics, they never talk about it.

The point is: Scott decides he’s going to talk to Stiles about it that night but he doesn’t get the chance. Around the time they’ve finished off the beer Stiles has already been pacing around Scott’s room for the better part of the last half hour, the bottom of his plaid overshirt whipping out with a flourish every time he twisted around. He suddenly stalls, literally takes Scott’s face in his hands, and says, “Let’s take that road trip.”

Two days later they have a couple of suitcases, an obscene amount of Mountain Dew, and a small pyramid of snacks loaded into the back of Stiles’ Jeep. Stiles had tried to convince Scott to leave that night but after nearly tumbling down the stairs in his semi-drunken excitement he realized that might not be the best idea. They can see Melissa and the sheriff looking at them in the rearview mirror as they’re driving away. They grin at each other, high five, and the adventure begins.

* * * *

Stiles made an RTP Mix ( _of course Stiles made an RTP Mix, Scott thinks_ ) and he has labeled it as such. When Scott asks what he put on it Stiles only replies, “you’ll have to wait and see, buddy,” and flashes Scott a mischievous grin. The first song is _Weightless_ by All Time Low and Scott figures it’s off to a pretty good start.  
The morning is filled with a lot of singing along to the RTP Mix ( _Good Life_ by One Republic, _Pumped Up Kicks_ by Foster the People and _You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid_ by The Offspring have all made appearances so far and Scott’s still sticking with his statement about the quality of the RTP Mix) and the entire first 12-pack of Mountain Dew. By noon they’ve already made three different bathroom stops because Stiles didn’t go before they left and despite the fact they matched each other pop for pop they didn’t have to go at the same time.

They talk about video games and concerts and argue over whether or not certain songs should have been included on Stiles’ mix ( _“How can you go on a road trip without having Tubthumping by Chumbawamba, Scott? You wanna know how? You can’t.”_ ). Any breaks of silence are often broken by one of them making a yell or laugh of excitement at the fact that they’re actually putting the RTP into motion. Scott actually puts his head out the window and cheers when they see the Now Leaving California sign. “Jesus Christ, Lydia was right. You actually are a giant puppy,” Stiles says in disbelief, shaking his head. Scott turns towards him with wide eyes and an exaggerated pout and Stiles shoves him and cries, “oh my god, stop!”

Scott’s the one driving when the sun sets and he gets chills as he watches it finally dip beyond the horizon. Stiles is leaning up on the dash next to him watching it with wide eyes, uncharacteristically silent, and that’s when it really hits Scott. He’s on a road trip. He is on a road trip with his best friend and they just spent the whole day driving and they just watched the sun set in a state neither of them have ever been in and this is happening. This dream they came up with over a decade ago isn’t a dream anymore it’s a reality and it is absolutely incredible. Stiles looks over at him and there’s amazement shining in his eyes and Scott knows he feels it too.

They stop in a small town in Wyoming for dinner and decide on Denny’s because Stiles is craving pancakes. They make a bet to each see if they can get their cute waitress’s phone number and they’re both well aware that she’s caught on to what they’re doing. Neither of them succeeds. They’re walking back out to the Jeep when Stiles says, “maybe she thought we were propositioning her for a threeway and she wasn’t cool with that,” and Scott actually has to pull out his inhaler as a precaution because he’s laughing so hard. Stiles looks mildly panicked at first but Scott waves him off. They decide to park the Jeep on one of the main streets and explore the town as they argue about each other’s flirtation tactics.

“We’re just in town for the night and we’re trying to find someone who could give us some suggestions for a good time,” Stiles mimicked. “God no wonder she probably thought we wanted a threesome!”

“What, some girls like that straight-forwardness! It worked with Allison!” Scott shoots back. “I understand that you were trying to go for the sly flirtation with the whole ‘so are you meeting with your boyfriend after work’ thing but she was not going for it. Did that work on Heather?”

“Heather and I didn’t really date,” Stiles clarified. “It was more casual than that.”

“Yeah, I sort of picked up on that. I figured that or you two just had a really sporadic and emotionally detached sex life,” Scott remarks with a laugh.

“I mean we bonded! It wasn’t solely for sex. But we didn’t have that deep emotional connection like you and Allison had. I wish we could’ve had something though,” Stiles continues. Scott sobers up at that. “Like, we tried to have something but it just never clicked. We met in that shitty speech class so it’s not like we actually wanted to be there, it was just a gen ed we had to knock off. She wanted to be an engineer so we didn’t have any sort of mutual ground other than neither of us wanted to be taking that course and that we both like curly fries.” Stiles admits it in a rush as he scuffs his shoe against the sidewalk. “The sex was awesome though,” he tacks on with a smirk.

Scott’s quiet for a moment before he asks, “curly fries?” Stiles punches him.

“Yes! We decided to grab lunch after class one day and we both ordered curly fries. I just bared my soul to you and that’s all you took away from that?” Stiles replies. It’s said with his usual sarcasm but some actual disappointment is laced in there, too. Scott gets frustrated with him sometimes that he’s not more open but when he actually does open up Scott focuses on food. Go figure.

“No, sorry, it just seemed really random!” Scott says it with a laugh but is serious when he continues. “But I’m sorry that nothing more happened there. She seemed nice and she was cute. I thought that she would’ve been good for you. You deserve someone who’s good for you, dude.” Scott smiles warmly at him before he adds, “even if you can be a sarcastic dick sometimes.”

“You love me anyways,” Stiles says with a smug grin. This time Scott punches him but doesn’t disagree. They get a cheap hotel room in town and fall asleep almost immediately.

* * * * *

They’re three and a half hours into the second day of their trip and are still somewhere in Wyoming when Stiles’ cell phone rings shrilly over the sound of The Format coming through the speakers. Stiles is behind the wheel clapping along to The First Single so Scott rummages around on the floor of the passenger side until he finds it and opens it up with a, “hey, Lydia.” Stiles turns down the radio and looks over at Scott curiously.

“Ignoring whatever reason you are answering Stiles’ phone instead of Stiles,” Lydia starts immediately. “I’m sure you remember my lovely offer of a pool day. I’ve decided that that’s today so where are you guys?”

Scott looks out the window as the latest mile sign goes by. “Um… about 80 miles out of Cheyenne?”

“Cheyenne as in Cheyenne, Wyoming?” Scott makes a noise of assent and her voice is high-pitched with confusion when she asks, “what the hell are you doing in Wyoming?”

“Sort of an impromptu road trip,” Scott says.

She lets out a soft, “oh,” and Scott thinks she gets it. “Was it Stiles’ idea?” she asks next and Scott was glad he didn’t have the forethought to put it on speaker. He almost begins to explain that technically it was both their ideas but, yes, it was Stiles’ idea to actually put the plan into motion but he figures Lydia wouldn’t care and he doesn’t want to have to then explain to Stiles what Lydia would’ve asked to warrant that kind of response so he just says, “yeah.” There’s silence for a few moments before she asks, “Is he doing okay?” It’s Scott’s turn to be silent and when he says, “yeah,” again, it’s quiet and firm.

Lydia’s voice goes back to its usual radiant tone, though it’s laced with warmth when she says, “well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“What do you mean? We don’t even know where we’re going,” Scott replies. (The new RTP was made while drunk and the haphazard markings across their map can attest to the fact. “We can’t actually follow this, can we?” Stiles asked when he broke out the map in the days leading up to their departure. Scott shook his head and Stiles shrugged before saying brightly, “well this really will be an adventure, then!”)

Lydia lets out an incredulous laugh. “You don’t?”

“No,” and Scott grins sheepishly, even though he knows she can’t see it. “That’s sort of part of the spontaneity.”

A beat. “Touché, McCall. Drive safe,” she says and then hangs up. He’s still trying to figure out what Lydia meant as he sets the phone down on the dashboard and it slides up against the windshield.

“What’d she want?” Stiles asks, his fingers twitching anxiously near the volume knob of the radio.

“We are missing out on a pool day,” Scott says. Then he adds with a smirk, “and probably Lydia in a bikini.”

“Scotty!” Stiles yells. “I’m on the open road with my best friend and a badass mix to go along with it.” He flicks his wrist to turn the volume back up as he says it. “There’s plenty of time to see Lydia in a bikini later. I’m with my bro!” He says the last sentence bluntly as though there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Scott grins at him with his trademark, bright smile and Stiles gives him a small one in return before turning his eyes back to the road. Then Scott awes and goes to ruffle Stiles’ hair.

“Don’t dumbass,” Stiles says with his usual snark back in place. “You’ll make me crash the Jeep.”

* * * * *

They’re lying side by side on their single bed in a Motel 6 hotel room off the interstate when Stiles’ phone rings again and he practically falls of the bed in his attempt to grab it from the night stand. When he answers it Lydia immediately orders him to put it on speaker phone.

“Chicago. You boys, Allison, and I. Two days. I know that’s a ways away but you better be on time no matter how side-tracked you get. A pit stop at the world’s largest Dairy Queen or something. I’ll fly Allison and I out there,” she explained before either boy could ask. A pang of jealousy burns briefly through Scott that she can so easily drop such cash as he begins to recall the hours and hours spent at the vet’s office trying to scrounge up enough money for courses and licensing fees and all the extra shifts his mom picked up at the hospital.

“Yo, Scott!” Stiles calls and Scott breaks away from his train of thought. “Since you zoned out for apparently, well, all of that conversation, you’ll be happy to know that Lydia has it all planned out. Scott, my friend, we’re going to experience the Windy City!” Scott smiles but he’s still distracted and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. After that the only noise in the room is made by the television, which is playing an old Malcolm in the Middle rerun.

They sleep soundly; legs entangled slightly, and if they weren’t as close it might be weird, but for them it works. All of the walls Stiles had built up were made after his mom’s death. His father, Scott, and Melissa were always closest to him so they were protected within those hardened boundaries even as Stiles was building them up, even after so many others – Lydia and Allison being two of the few exceptions – were closed out. Scott, on the other hand, always gave his love freely. That happiness radiated within Stiles’ walls, warming him whenever his life and his thoughts threatened to get dark and cold. That warmth enveloped Stiles in a way that neither of them could really describe, no matter how many times Lydia or Allison had asked them.

* * * * *

Since Lydia allotted them two days to get to Chicago they do like she assumed and allow themselves to get a little more distracted along the way. They get up extra early, each grab two cups of really bad coffee on their way out of the Motel 6, and just drive. Mile markers pass and Scott spills his first cup of coffee all over the floor after Stiles hits a pothole on a back road.

The first pit stop they decide upon is the birthplace of Kool-Aid in Hastings, Nebraska. Stiles is unimpressed. They play the alphabet game three times before Stiles declares that he is banishing the letters ‘Q,’ ‘X,’ and ‘Z,’ from the alphabet indefinitely. Scott makes Stiles give him a turn driving after getting tired of seeing corn and deciding he will at least have something else to focus on if he’s driving. Stiles falls asleep almost immediately and Scott briefly questions how safe he had been for the last 2 hours Stiles had been behind the wheel.

They get off I-80 again to visit the World’s Largest Pitchfork in Ames, Iowa and they laugh at the absurdity of their setting. Stiles speeds a little more excessively than usual to make up for the time they lost for their detours and Scott is grateful they never get pulled over.

It’s just getting dark when they start discussing where they’re going to sleep that night.

“We could try sleeping in a rest stop, trucker-style,” Stiles suggests. “Is that a thing that actually happens on road trips or am I making that up?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been on a road trip before,” he reminds Stiles, who makes a face at him. “It could be a thing that happens on our road trip,” he suggests. Stiles grins.

Twenty minutes later once they actually pull into a rest stop that they deem is safe enough to sleep at Stiles isn’t grinning anymore. He squirms in the backseat of the Jeep, having pushed all of their provisions to the floor. His head is resting on his bag and he twists to face Scott and say, “I hate you.”

Scott’s curled up in the passenger’s seat, one leg stretched up on the dash in a way that is surprisingly comfortable despite how it looks. “Whatever,” he argues back. “At least you get the whole backseat. And it’ll be cool to tell as a story later.”

“Yeah, it’ll go along the lines of, ‘hey remember that time I went to sleep in my Jeep and woke up with rheumatoid arthritis?’” Stiles remarks.

“Go to sleep, you’re getting cranky.”

* * * * *

They get to the parking lot of the Marriot on Michigan Avenue at 8:13 AM after a healthy breakfast of vending machine Pop Tarts and some coffee that tasted even worse than the ones they got at the Motel 6.

Lydia and Allison are sitting on a bench out front. Lydia, looking perfectly styled in a short floral skirt with a white top covered with a denim jacket despite the early hour, is filing her nails while Allison, wearing a tan coat over a white v-neck and capris, blinks sleepily beside her. However the minute Allison sees the Jeep she jumps up with a large, bright smile, straightening out her jacket. Scott briefly feels under-dressed for a second as he looks down at his wrinkled dark blue shirt and Stiles’ wrinkled dark gray one but then Stiles is getting out of the car and Allison has her arms wrapped around him not a second later, letting out a cry of delight. Her fingers fly to his hair the minute they pull apart. “Your hair’s so long,” she gasps.

“And yours is short,” he observes back, noting the wavy brown tresses that don’t quite reach her shoulders anymore. She shrugs before turning to Scott, who had been leaning against the hood of the Jeep, watching the exchange with a warm smile. His smile grows slowly as she walks up to him and wraps her arms around him next.

“Hi,” she says quietly. Her breath is hot against Scott’s ear as he returns the greeting.

They’re still looking fondly at each other when Lydia claps loudly and everyone turns to face her. “Well, now that everyone’s had their little reunions, we have a hotel to check into and a city to take over.” Scott whoops, Stiles pumps his fist, Allison claps her hands together excitedly, and they’re off.

Allison, Scott, and Stiles gaze in awe at the hotel’s large lobby so Lydia breezes past them to check in. She gets four keys and immediately heads back towards the hotel doors and the others chase after her. Stiles begins to protest about wanting to see the room but Lydia remains adamant that the hotel staff will bring the bags up and that they don’t get to go up yet anyways, the room is a surprise.

They choose not to argue and instead make their way down Michigan Avenue. They explore every level of Water Tower Place though none of them actually buy anything. It’s shortly before one when Stiles complains that he’s hungry. Lydia frowns but Allison backs him up, saying, “Lydia, we haven’t eaten in hours. I barely had time to stop and get a bagel and coffee from Starbucks before you were pulling me out of the airport.”

“Can we not eat here though? I’m kind of Water Tower Place’d out,” Scott adds. Allison and Stiles agree. Scott instead convinces them to eat at what Lydia assumes is the diviest bar on Michigan Avenue. “They’re totally going to have the best Chicago food!” Scott insists. When their Chicago-style deep dish pizza arrives, Lydia has to agree.

Before they can dig in, Stiles stops them with a shout and wave of his hands. “I would like to propose a toast,” he says. They all turn and look up at him expectantly and he flushes slightly. “Here is to an unlikely reunion, in an even more unlikely place.”

“Hear, hear!” Scott says loudly, causing a few neighboring tables to glance their way. He’s undeterred as he raises his beer bottle. Three more bottles rise to meet his and they clink together.

“Oh, wait!” Allison says excitedly before the bottles lower. “Someone take a picture of that!” Stiles’ phone is the only one already on the table so he snaps a picture of their raised hands and Allison smiles happily. “Oh, wait!” Allison starts again.

“What is it this time, woman? I’d like to eventually eat this delicious pizza sitting in front of me,” Stiles quips, though it’s entirely good-natured.

“Excuse you!” Allison gasps with a laugh. “If you hadn’t done that toast we would’ve already been eating by now!” She’s barely finished talking before the others chime in his Stiles’ defense – “His toast was sweet!” Lydia protests at the same time Scott points out, “his toast is the only reason that picture happened in the first place.” – and she sticks her tongue out at both of them. “Both of those things are true, but I just needed to add that I sort of stretched the truth in order to get away from my internship.”

“Yeah, how did you manage that?” Scott asks.

“I said I had a family emergency, which is technically true, because you guys are my family and this was urgent.” The others look touched and she quickly adds on, eyes shining mischievously, “but I’m technically not supposed to be here so no posting any pictures of our debauchery on Facebook!”

“So Allison’s incognito, got it, let’s eat,” Stiles summarizes.

“Your toast was really sweet,” Allison says genuinely, looking over at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, but he smiles back at her.

Stiles wants to visit Millennium Park so they head there next. Along the way Lydia buys a pair of bright blue plastic sunglasses and she convinces Allison to buy a pair as well. Lydia and Allison gaze expectantly at the boys from behind bright blue and purple shades respectively until they give in and buy some as well. With Scott now wearing a pair of red sunglasses and Stiles having a pair of lime green ones perched on the top of his head to complete the collection, they continue on.

They take an excessive amount of tourist-y pictures at The Bean and spend the next few hours walking around both the park and along the crowded shore of Lake Michigan. They pause at a railing that runs along a sidewalk and look out at the sun setting on the lakeshore in front of them. They take a few more pictures in their veritable rainbow of sunglasses before Scott suddenly starts laughing.

“What’s so funny, Scott?” Allison asks.

As he composes himself he explains, “We’re in Chicago, you guys. Lydia, Stiles and I hadn’t seen you in months before last week and Allison none of us have seen you in, what, over a year, right? And now we’re all together. In Chicago! It’s just, kind of ridiculous!”

“And you boys got here by driving halfway across the country, I’d like to add!” Allison chimes in. She throws an arm around each of the boys’ shoulders and gives a smile so bright and carefree Scott’s reminded of why he fell in love with her in the first place.

Stiles glances over at Scott because he knows there’s more to that speech. He never expected to be in Chicago. Neither of them did. A working, single parent – especially those who have such around the clock, overworked jobs like a sheriff or a nurse – don’t really have the time for vacations, apart from the occasional outing to the ocean. So the fact that the two of them are there together, with Allison and Lydia as well, it’s sort of hard to grasp. Stiles knows that that trapped feeling was a big factor in this trip finally happening. They both desperately needed to get away.

“God, you’re all so sappy,” Lydia says but she’s smiling. Stiles beckons her closer with his hand not draped over Allison’s shoulders and she wraps her arms around them too. The four of them hug, right there on the sidewalk.

Allison insists they eat at the Parthenon for dinner because according to her it’s a Chicago staple so they cram into a taxi from the lake shore and wait 25 minutes for a table to open up. Stiles nearly falls out of his chair when they light the cheese on fire. Scott laughs loudly, Allison yells with delight, and Lydia rolls her eyes but grins as brightly as Stiles has ever seen from her. Stiles has always found the sayings about capturing moments or memories or whatever like photographs kind of cheesy (pun somewhat intended), but as he looks at the expressions of pure happiness on the faces of the three people he cares most about in the world, Stiles thinks that, yeah, this is a moment he’d like to keep.

They stop at a liquor store on their way back to the hotel and buy a 12-pack of beer and a bottle of rum – “yo ho,” Stiles quips – along with a sleeve of Solo cups, a 2 liter bottle of Coke, and a package of ping pong balls. They each pick out a different commemorative Chicago shot glass and head back to the hotel. It’s dark out as they finally get back to the lobby of the hotel and ride the elevator up to one of the highest floors. They reach the room and Scott, Stiles, and Allison all wait anxiously for Lydia to open the door.

When she turns on the lights Allison lets out a soft, “wow,” while Stiles gives a more tasteful, “holy shit.” Scott just stares.

There are two large beds with crisp white comforters and several pillows on them. The lamp on the nightstand between them is illuminating the light olive green walls and the large flat screen TV in a TV cabinet on top of the dresser across from the beds. The bathroom and closet are right next to them when they opened the door and they can see tiled floors and marble countertops and fluffy white robes hanging on the door. Past the mini fridge at the far end of the room is a sliding glass door leading out to the balcony overlooking Michigan Avenue.

While Stiles excuses himself to the bathroom and Allison flops down onto one of the beds, giggling slightly when she bounces, Scott walks slowly out onto the balcony. He wraps his hands around the balcony railing and feels the night breeze ruffle his hair. He hears the door slide shut behind him and to his surprise, Lydia is at his side.

“You okay, Scott?” She asks quietly. She glances down at his hands and she gingerly places her own hand on top of one of his.

He gazes out on the lights of the city and, fuck, if it isn’t the most incredible thing he has ever seen. He nods. “It’s just that I originally thought I was going on this trip mainly for Stiles’ benefit. I mean it’s not like I wasn’t pumped for it too but he decided about it after thinking about his mom too much and I could tell how much he wanted to get away.” Lydia gazes up at him but doesn’t say anything so he continues. “I guess I just didn’t realize how badly I needed to get away too.”

“From Beacon Hills?” Lydia quietly asks.

“From all of it,” Scott tries to clarify. “I’m on a balcony in the heart of Chicago and I’m just seeing how much there is that I haven’t experienced and how much I’m missing out on. I’ve been working for Deaton for forever and have spent so much time trying to get by for those courses, both grade and money-wise. And I understand it all worked out and I’m going to be a freaking paramedic and that’s an incredible feeling but I’ve just had relatively the same routine since high school and now high school is two years gone and I feel like I’m still the same and I just feel so stuck. And, yeah, I get that things are going to take time to be different but I just worry what if they don’t? Everyone else got out of Beacon Hills and then there’s me.”

“And Stiles,” Lydia adds.

“I’ve always got Stiles,” Scott says, smiling despite himself.

“Yeah, you’re sort of stuck with him. Now there is a definition of stuck,” Lydia says and Scott laughs. “And as trite as it sounds, we’re young, Scott. We’ve got time to experience all these things. I mean, you’re going to be a paramedic and help save lives just like your mom! You just drove halfway across the goddamn country! I don’t know many guys who have the balls to do that, no matter how much wishful thinking they do,” she exclaims.

Scott laughs again. “Yeah, it’s kind of crazy, huh? I wish it could last.”

“That’s what makes this all so special, Scott. It doesn’t last. If our lives were nonstop adventures and craziness, things like this would lose their meaning. The little things. Sometimes life sucks and sometimes it’s pretty okay and, yeah, sometimes it’s even great. And then there are moments like this, like reuniting with old friends and getting drunk in a new city that remind us why we bother sticking around. And then you realize that anyone down there could be experiencing a night that’s just as special as ours is and we have no idea. The routine gives the breaks from the routine that much more meaning, makes us appreciate what we have. What we could have.” There’s a long silence as the two gaze at each other, each sort of seeing the other in a new light. The only movement is the slight rippling of Scott’s dark hair and the stray strawberry-blonde tendrils of Lydia’s hair that sway in the wind.

Scott finally says, “you’re kind of a genius, Lydia.”

“Sweetie, that’s old news,” she answers with a laugh.

“I know,” Scott replies. “But I’m serious! You’re gonna do some incredible stuff, Lydia. I mean, you’re probably already doing incredible stuff. Stiles was right, you’re totally going to win the Fields medal someday.”

It takes a few seconds for Lydia to come up with a reply, her face reddening. She contemplates breezing off the compliment but after everything Scott told her she figures he deserves the truth. “I’m trying to,” she admits. “To all three things, I mean. It’s different when everyone in the room is just as smart as you are. You’ve got to work a lot harder to prove yourself. But when have I ever backed down from a challenge?” That trademark, determined look is back on her face.  
“The Lydia Martin I know never has.”

“Damn straight, McCall. Now come on, I need a drink.”

* * * * *

“Do those two talk a lot?” Allison asks shortly after Stiles emerges from the bathroom.

He follows her gaze to where Scott and Lydia are leaning close together and talking out on the balcony. He plops down on the bed next to her, wiping his hands dry on his shorts. “About as often as you and I do,” he says. She looks guilty for a second but he waves her off. “Don’t. It’s a two-way street.” Relief floods Allison’s face.

They glance back out at the other two. “Do you know what –?” Allison starts to ask.

“I think so,” Stiles cuts her off and she gives him an expectant and confused look. “Me,” he says bluntly with a nod of his head. He explains their lunch date (and when it was) after seeing Allison’s look of further confusion. “When Scott and Lydia hugged goodbye they talked really quietly for a few seconds and I kind of surmised it was about me. They know I didn’t want the pity, but it meant a lot that they tried to be there.”

Allison is quiet for a few moments, trying to find the best response, before she simply asks, “it’s really been ten years?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long and sometimes it feels like it’s been my whole life, which I don’t really get since, like, she was around for the first ten years of it. It’s just that for everything she got to see, she missed out on so much, like me making first string in lacrosse or getting my driver’s license or graduating and those are things that she should’ve been able to see and it’s not fair that she didn’t. I mean I get that she got to experience a lot of things with me, my first word was ‘mommy’ for God’s sakes, but those aren’t things that I remember!” He closes his eyes and inhales deeply before he continues. “It’s kind of surreal, really. The hurt never really goes away, but it’s usually relatively bearable. It gets bad on the holidays, obviously, and the realization that it’s been ten years stings like a bitch, but I’m okay.” He looks over at Allison, who’s sitting there quietly. She’s giving him a supportive look and he gives her a genuine smile after another deep breath.

“How are you doing?” He asks. “I know that Beacon Hills sucks but you didn’t have to move all the way across the country to get away!”

She gives him a weak smile. “I’m okay,” she starts, before changing to, “I’m good. It just gets lonely sometimes. I miss all of you. I mean, I love it out East, I really do. I love my school and I love my internship and I have some amazing new friends, but there’s a reason I said I had a family emergency and didn’t feel bad about it. You’re my family and it sucks how rarely I get to see all of you. And it hurts knowing that tomorrow I’m going to be headed away from all of you. Again.” She goes to pull at some stray hairs subconsciously but with her new haircut there aren’t any and she lets her hands fall limply into her lap.

“We miss you too,” Stiles tells her. “We never really talk about it openly but there’s just sort of this unspoken feeling about it. Especially during those rare moments we’re all together and one of us is sitting in the backseat of my Jeep or Lydia’s car alone or when there’s an empty seat at our booth when we’re grabbing a bite to eat. I know that you and Lydia went your own ways while Scott and I stuck around but you really went, huh?”

Allison only nods softly and when she looks up her eyes are watery. Stiles pulls her into a hug and rubs her back as she grasps at his shirt. “And I know you’re gonna be some swanky politician or senator or government something with a big mansion someday but don’t forget us little people, alright?”

She gives a soft little laugh and pulls away from him. “I’m super jealous of the big adventure you and Scott are having. It’d be a nice change of pace to travel the country knowing that I’d actually be returning to the same place when I was done. Lydia’s schedule is just is chaotic as mine so there’s probably no chance of it happening. So you better live it up for all of four of us, okay?” She gives him a look that’s both teasing and truthful. Stiles laughs and then she’s laughing too and Stiles thinks about how much he’s missed the sound.

“You know that two way street you mentioned earlier? Could we maybe walk it a little more often?” she asks tentatively.

“Yeah, yeah, I think we can.”

* * * * *  
The two conversations somehow manage to end relatively simultaneously and Lydia comes sweeping in form the balcony with Scott following behind her. “Let’s drink!” she exclaims as she opens the bottle of rum. The other three cheer loudly and Stiles sets all their shot glasses on the table as well. Lydia expertly pours down the line of glasses and plucks hers from the row.

“To one hell of a night!” She says.

“To one hell of a day!” Allison adds as she picks up her own glass.

“To one hell of a group of friends!” Scott chimes in, swiping the glass from the table.

“I already gave a toast so let’s get drunk!” Stiles finishes and takes his glass as well.

The shot glasses hit together.

They’re at a loss at how to play beer pong since the only table is small and circular until Stiles has the idea to pull the drawers out from the dresser under the TV cabinet and flip them upside down. He stacks the drawers two wide and two deep on the table and the others cheer. He bows dramatically.

While setting up cups for the game the two genders instinctively pair together. They’re about to start the first game when Lydia says, “Hold on. What happens when we get tired of kicking your asses and want to make it a little fairer?” Allison laughs loudly at the boys’ matching shocked expressions.

“Tell you what,” Stiles replies with a steely look. “When we finish destroying you this first round we’ll all take turns being partners. “ Stiles and Lydia lock their gazes so Alison eventually throws the ball and the sound of it hitting liquid breaks their stare. Stiles sneers at Lydia’s raised eyebrows and smirk.

Despite losing, the boys do not get their asses kicked like Lydia promised they would, they only lose by one. Stiles and Allison make a surprisingly good pair, though Stiles and Lydia make an even better one. Stiles knows that their win was at least partly because Scott and Allison weren’t trying very hard. When Stiles and Lydia realize they’ve tied with two wins each they demand a tie breaker.  
Lydia shrugs out of her jacket and Stiles replies, “uh oh, shit just got real,” and she scrunches up her face at him.

Allison’s won twice as well, though she’s content with them not noticing, so she moves over to the bed and sits beside Scott. Scott is the most pleasantly drunk out of all of them, having lost every game. However, Allison can tell that Scott’s look of delight has nothing to do with how much he’s had to drink. As long as the people Scott loves are happy, Scott’s happy. He’s always been that way.

“I’m really glad you could come,” Scott says quietly as they watch Lydia and Stiles set up the last game.

“I am too,” Allison replies. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed all of you.”

“Are you doing okay? Do you get lonely out there?” Scott asks. Allison notes that there’s no trace of bitterness or frustration about her choice, just concern.

“Sometimes,” she admits. “I have new friends out there. They’re different from you guys, but they’re all still pretty amazing. I’m not the only one who moved from far away so I have people who get what I’m feeling, that helps.”

“Any new guy amongst those amazing new friends?”

Allison knew it’d come up at some point but the two of them had (mostly) accepted life was pulling them in different directions so she answers truthfully. “One. His name is Isaac. My roommate, he and his roommate, and I all got really close. We’re living in apartments across from each other this year. He and his roommate both went home for the summer so I haven’t seen them in a while. My roommate got a job in the city, though, so I’m not completely alone.”  
Scott smiles at her. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Are you? Happy, I mean?” Allison asks.

“Yeah.” He starts to say more but a loud cheer from Stiles cuts him off and Scott cheers when he realizes Stiles won his match against Lydia. They actually shake hands and Stiles gives her a shit-eating grin before he bounds over to join Allison and Scott on the bed.

“Allison, I lost so you have to help me fix the dressers,” Lydia calls.

“If you lost, why do I have to help you?”

“That was the deal. I wasn’t going to do it all by myself! Scott would’ve had to have helped Stiles if Stiles had lost.” Allison pushes herself off the bed and walks over to Lydia.

“Kick her ass?” Scott asks with a laugh, bumping up against Stiles.

“Buddy, I kicked her ass so good!” Stiles says loudly, wrapping an arm around Scott’s shoulder and pulling him closer.

“Bullshit, Stilinski, you won by two!” Lydia shouts. Her back is to them as she’s pushing the last dresser drawer into place but she looks over her shoulder to give them a teasing glare.

“Babe, if you can’t stand the heat get out of the kitchen,” Stiles shoots back.

“Chill out you guys, let’s do more shots,” Allison mediates, grabbing the bottle from the floor where it was placed to be out of the way of the game. She tosses Scott and Stiles their glasses and Lydia grabs her from where she had placed it next to the TV.

After the next round of shots has been done, Stiles points at the girls who are both sitting up against the headboard of their bed. “Alright, ladies, dazzle us with your tales of college debauchery!”

* * * * *

They’ve changed into more comfortable clothes and moved to the space in between the two beds. Lydia and Allison’s ankles are tangled together across from where Scott has shifted sideways to have his back resting up against Stiles’ entire right side of his body.

“So there hasn’t been anyone?” Stiles asks Lydia and he hopes he’s able to downplay the surprise in his voice.

Lydia’s eyes narrow and Stiles knows he wasn’t able to but she doesn’t vocally acknowledge his tone. “No,” she says simply with a soft shrug. “There’s been a few guys, but none of them lasted.”

“Why not?” Allison asks from beside her.

“A variety of reasons. Freshman year I always got these looks of disbelief when I walked into classrooms for the first time and I could always hear people talking about me. I felt like a real life version of freaking Elle Woods. It didn’t bother me but it made me want to show them all up just a little bit more, you know? So I really buckled down to make sure that I earned the right to walk into a room like I owned the place. There was a guy I hooked up with a few times during the first part of sophomore year but nothing happened there. It just sort of happened and we didn’t expect anything more to come out of it. The latest guy was named Aiden. He started out nice enough. We had a couple of classes together and things were simple but when he realized I was better than him, at, well, mostly everything he turned into a douche and ended whatever it was we had going.” Her voice goes quiet by the end of the story and she shakes her head in frustration.

“I know Jackson wasn’t a model boyfriend but at least he was better than everyone I’ve met at school. I mean – God! – is it so hard to meet a decent guy who isn’t a creep or emotionally stunted? I go to fucking Harvard!” She grabs the bottle of rum from in between the four of them and takes a long drink and continues. “I mean it’s not like I’m desperate for a relationship, I can do just fine on my own thank you very much, but it’d be nice to know if I did want one there are legitimate guys out there other than these two dorks,” she finishes with a nod of her head towards Scott and Stiles. Allison rubs Lydia’s shoulder softly and Lydia turns to her, eyes teasing. “How about you, Argent? You said you had a new boy, right?”

“Or was it a new girl?” Stiles says with a suggestive smirk.

“There is one girl,” Allison begins, her voice low and Stiles’ eyes widen in surprise. “Her name is Erica. She’s pre-med, blonde, hot,” Allison lists off on her fingers. “And my roommate,” She finishes with a pointed look, separating herself from Lydia long enough to kick Stiles and Scott laughs from deep in his throat.

“You avoided my question,” Lydia says in a sing-song voice and Allison’s face reddens.

“Yes, Lydia, I do. Kind of. His name is Isaac. I already sort of mentioned him to Scott.” Both Stiles and Lydia glance at Scott but his face is indifferent as he listens to Allison’s story. “He’s tall and has this crazy mess of curly hair, which is a huge switch from you two,” Allison says as she points in the direction of Scott and Stiles and Stiles ruffles Scott’s hair with a grin.

“He’s majoring in psychology. He comes from kind of a messed up home life so he wants to help kids,” Allison continues. “He lives with this guy named Boyd. I’m not sure what Boyd is majoring in actually. He’s changed it a few times. They’ve lived across the hall from us both years. Isaac and I had the same Art Appreciation class and when we realized the first day that we lived in the same building we started hanging out. He’s nice. He can be kind of closed off sometimes but I don’t fault him for that or anything. We go out to parties together every so often and we’ve danced with each other and almost kissed once but Erica suddenly appeared and then Isaac got all quiet and wouldn’t meet my eyes and he scampered off to find Boyd.”

“You’ve mentioned this Erica chick when we’ve talked before, too,” Lydia interrupts with narrowed eyes. “Is she cooler than me?”

“You’re kind of irreplaceable,” Allison replies and Lydia smiles at her, apparently satisfied. Scott doesn’t miss the way the girls press just a little closer to each other for a moment and he smiles at the small gesture. He realizes that there is so much more to their friendship that he and Stiles have never seen and the thought of it makes him indescribably happy. He hopes they’re as close as he and Stiles are.

Scott realizes that Stiles has been carding his hand softly through his hair ever since Stiles ruffled his hair when Allison mentioned Isaac’s curls and decides it’s kind of nice. He shifts and leans his head back against Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles shifts to accommodate the change instantaneously. Scott reaches out for the bottle and takes a drink of his own. Stiles takes it with his free hand and drinks as well. Allison, not wanting to feel left out, takes a drink before continuing.

“She is pretty awesome though. She’s pre-med because she has epilepsy and wants to do something with like early intervention to help out kids who have epilepsy so they don’t ever feel the way she did in high school. She got made fun of a lot.” Everyone frowns deeply at that. “She decided in college that she wouldn’t let that stop her or define her or anything like that so she’s got that sort of sexy confidence about her; she can really work a leather jacket. She’s pretty badass. She’s super reliable too, though. She’s a really good friend and it’s nice to have someone to confide in. She actually gave me a ride to the airport, despite the short notice.”

Allison focuses her gaze on Scott and Stiles. “How about you, boys? Any good stories of college debauchery?” Lydia glances over at Scott but Scott’s face remains unexpressive. Scott shakes his head and Stiles squirms as Scott’s hair tickles his neck.

“There was a girl named Heather,” Stiles admits. “Nothing serious ever came out of it though.”

“Except for some seriously loud sex,” Scott mutters beside him and Allison gasps, intrigued. Lydia raises her eyebrows.

“Yes, okay, we hooked up every so often,” Stiles defends, his hand leaving Scott’s hair as he motions both out in front of him. “We didn’t actually have that much in common so nothing ever came out of it – don’t,” Stiles interrupts with a pointed finger when he sees Scott’s mouth open again and this time both girls laugh.

Neither Scott nor Stiles talk much about the learning side of college. Stiles because he had been mostly knocking off gen eds, though he did inform Allison about his decision for a major and that he’s going to be attending California State University – Fullerton. Scott just sort of comments quietly about passing the NREMT and quiets up after the other three insist on doing a congratulatory shot.

Allison talks about her various poly sci and sociology courses and Stiles grimaces at the latter, explaining his sociology professor who, as Stiles puts it, “was twice as smart as Mr. Harris and somehow an even bigger bitch. Honestly, she talked quicker than I did and we wrote so many pointless papers.” Lydia tells them about the multiple calc courses she’s taken and Scott makes a noise like he’s been physically wounded.

After the girls are done talking the conversation quiets down as the four reminisce. They laugh over old memories like Lydia nonchalantly teaching them how to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail while bored in chemistry one day to Scott sneaking into the winter dance sophomore year to be with Allison and using Danny as a cover when caught.

“What’s Danny been up to lately?” Allison asks.

“I don’t know. He’s probably already the United States ambassador for, like, the entire Eastern hemisphere. He’s literally that awesome,” Stiles replies and the others laugh.

The conversation eventually runs out as they get more and more tired. Lydia finally takes the initiative to stand up and helps Allison to her feet as well. The boys push themselves up, using the bed as a crutch. They pointedly avoid talking about the fact that they’re all separating again in a few hours and they hug each other good night and quietly climb into their respective beds, the bottle of rum and shot glasses still left on the floor.

With the poignant feeling of the night still hanging in the air, Scott hears Stiles next to him and girls in the bed over each finally fall asleep. He, however, feels restless so he gets up and grabs the bottle on his walk to the door. He slides the balcony door open quietly and steps outside, sliding the door shut behind him.

He looks down at the streets below. The city is still lively and it’s a sharp contrast from the stillness that had fallen over their room. He’s not sure how to describe the mood that’s slowly settled in his bones but he figures Lydia kind of described it when she called the night, “special.” He loves his three friends just a little more deeply and he thinks that has to do with the growth they’ve all had over the past two years: Allison working to define herself away from the shadow and demands of her parents, Lydia getting the chance to really prove her worth, and he and Stiles both trying to define themselves out of the safety net of the other.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t going to share the rest of that,” says a voice behind him. Scott turns to see Stiles standing there, fingers moving restlessly at his sides. Scott wordlessly hands Stiles the bottle as he moves over to stand beside Scott against the railing.

“You like it out here,” Stiles notes.

“It’s, just, when am I going to see a view like this again, Stiles?” Scot asks turning to face his best friend. Stiles turns to meet his gaze and lights dance across his face.

Stiles knew there was more to Scott’s burst of happiness earlier but he chooses not to feed Scott’s doubts and instead replies, “I dunno, maybe we could do this again over spring break. Or make it an annual thing.”

“It’s not going to be an annual thing,” Scott says with a sad laugh and Stiles knows he’s right. “I mean that’s the reason we all felt the way we did today, right? Beneath the overwhelming happiness of getting to see each other all together again, we knew that this happening was one of those rare moments where everything aligns. Who knows when something like this will happen again. This was special, ephemeral.” Scott has to grin slyly at that and Stiles rolls his eyes and bumps Scott’s shoulder affectionately.

They turn to look inside at where the two girls are asleep next to each other. Scott and Stiles’ reflections in the glass bleed together amongst the myriad of colorful lights reflecting behind them. Stiles thinks that there’s probably some sort of symbolism there. Maybe if he were a little more sober he’d be able to figure out what it is.

Stiles likes the state of inebriation he is in, he decides. He was just drunk enough to have that warm feeling and love everyone a little more freely. It helped him not focus on the fact that this is probably the last time the four of them will be together for a while.

“We probably need to start heading back tomorrow, huh?” Scott says after a time.

“Yeah,” Stiles replies. “I think this was what we were looking for.” Scott’s eyes flash with a look Stiles doesn’t recognize but it’s gone so immediately he wonders if he imagined it. “We both needed this, didn’t we? This escape, this break.”

“The life affirmation that, yeah, no matter how we feel sometimes we’re doing okay,” Scott tosses out.

Stiles gives him a funny look. “Of course we’re doing alright, Scott. We’ve got each other,” he says as he wraps an arm around Scott’s shoulders for a one-armed hug.

“We’ve always had each other,” Scott remarks dryly.

“And that is why we’re always gonna be okay,” Stiles says with an air of certainty that signifies the subject is closed.

Stiles knows that what he just said was dorky but he’s still a little buzzed and Scott’s smiling at him like Stiles is maybe the greatest person in the whole world so Stiles doesn’t care. They watch the city lights in silence until Scott yawns and they both take that as the sign that they need to go to sleep.

* * * * *

The four are quiet in the morning as they pack their things up. Stiles offers to drive the girls to the airport but they decline.

“The hotel has a shuttle,” Lydia explains. “You have your own journey to finish. Besides, Allison and I haven’t had four days of bonding like you two have. We need some girl time before our flights!” The girls share a grin.

They see the shuttle pulling into the hotel parking lot and start their goodbyes. The hugs last longer and are just a little bit tighter than the previous morning.

“Text me when you get back home?” Allison asks Scott.

“Yeah, definitely,” Scott answers. She kisses him on the cheek and turns to hug Stiles.

“So that two ways street?” Allison begins.

“I’ll put on my walking boots,” Stiles answers and she kisses him on the cheek, too.

Lydia walks up to Scott next. “Remember what I said, McCall,” she advises as she wraps her arms around him.

“Remember what I said,” Scott shoots back. She gives him a look of approval after kissing his cheek and he smiles at her.

“I have to say, your spontaneity made for an incredible time, Stiles,” Lydia tells him.

“Yeah, well your generosity and excellent planning,” Stiles motions to the hotel, “helped make it happen.”

“Text me when you get back into town,” she says with yet another hug and kiss on the cheek and he nods.

“Come on, my dear,” Lydia says as she links arms with Allison. They smile brightly at the boy and get on the shuttle. They wave from behind the glass. Scott waves back, Stiles salutes, and then they’re gone.

“Time to keep on keeping on,” Stiles says as he lifts his bag into the back of the Jeep beside Scott’s. They climb in and Stiles starts the vehicle. They leave Chicago to the sound of Blink-182 playing over the speakers.

* * * * *

The sun is high in the sky when they grab snacks and switch places at a rest stop off of I-80. Like the majority of the ride had been so far that day, this was also done in silence. Stiles had even stopped drumming along to his CD.

There’s an air of uncertainty hovering around them. Unlike the giddy excitement that laced the feeling during the pre-Chicago part of the trip, this time it’s laced with confusion about just what this trip has meant to each of them. The air has changed but neither of them can quite understand how and whenever they do talk Allison and Lydia inevitably get brought up and they try to avoid it while all the feelings are still fresh. They end up in Denver, but it’s a long twelve hours.

They check into yet another single-bed hotel room and take turns showering. They crawl into bed and Scott turns on the TV. A comedian Scott doesn't recognize appears doing a standup routine. Stiles takes the remote from him and turns down the volume. Scott looks over at him.

“What was with us today?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” Scott replies as he runs his hands down his face. Stiles glances over at him and it compels him to continue. “I just kept thinking about Chicago. Not about Lydia and Allison, mostly,” he clarifies before Stiles can interrupt. “Just about this break from the norm in general and how when we get back to Beacon Hills we’ll both just go back to work, too, and it will be like nothing even changed. That’s what I was talking to Lydia about on the porch last night, how stuck I was feeling. How I needed this trip to try and escape that feeling.”

“You’re not going to get stuck, Scott,” Stiles insists. “We’re twenty years old and trying to be able to raise up enough money to actually be able to spend it sometimes. We all feel stuck. Life’s supposed to suck for us right now.” Scott looks at him gratefully.

“I was thinking about my mom,” Stiles answers before Scott can ask.

“Well now my reason seems stupid,” Scott mumbles.

“Nah. If you weigh yourself down trying to help carry everyone else’s problems you’re going to get crushed, no matter how hard you try to fight it. Seriously, you spent so much time helping me out with my personal essays and stuff for Fullerton I don’t know how you had time to study for the NREMT. You spend so much time worrying and caring about others, it’s good to know you’re taking enough time for yourself.”

“So… your mom?” Scott asks quietly, trying not to press but desperate to know more.

“Yeah. While you were having your heart to heart with Lydia out on the balcony I was talking to Allison about her, actually. I know that I never really talk about you about her,” Stiles continues. Scott doesn’t comment.

“It’s just that you were always there, before, during, and after she got sick. I didn’t think I needed to talk to you about her because you always just understood. But I’m realizing that it’s been ten years since she died and we’ve both done a lot of growing up but I still avoid the topic.” Stiles repeats what he told Allison the night before and Scott watches him with his deep brown eyes full of understanding and warmth and Stiles can’t decide if he wants to punch Scott or hug him.

“… And I know that she would’ve loved the idea of this road trip so much. Even by age ten I could tell she had such spirit and vivacity, even when she got sick,” Stiles finds himself continuing, past what he told Allison. “That’s what hurt the most: watching her lose her spirit. It was like that final middle finger from life. Hell, I bet my mom and your mom probably went on a road trip of their own because your mom’s just awesome like that and fuck, Scott, I really fucking miss her.” His voice breaks completely by the end of that confession but he doesn’t cry so he is at least a little bit impressed with himself. He might not have been as okay as what he made out to Allison, he’s realizing though. Stiles reaches around for Scott’s hand in the dark and grabs it tightly. Scott squeezes back and Stiles feels himself breathing normally again.

“Do you miss your dad?” Stiles asks finally as he rubs at his face with his free hand.

“I feel like I should,” Scott says quietly. He’s looking forward at the TV so Stiles only sees his profile, sharpened even farther than it usually is in the soft blue glow from the screen. “I mean, he was my dad. But even before he left my mom was already twice the parent he ever was. He resented the fact that I had asthma. He thought the inhalers were a waste of money and I was faking it to get attention.” Scott’s never told Stiles that before and he sees Stiles’ eyes widen in an upset shock that rapidly changes to anger.

“There was one time he yelled at me because I had an asthma attack so bad he had to come pick me up from school; this was in, like, third grade. I was so upset with him blowing off the fact that I could barely get down to the nurse’s office without help and how all I could hear was my own screwed up breathing and the other kids in class laughing at me. I finally got so upset that I yelled back at him. I don’t even remember what I said but that’s when he hit me across the face. It triggered an asthma attack right there in the living room and he just watched while I struggled to try and get my inhaler out of my backpack. He literally just stood and watched me stand there crying and struggling to breathe normally and he just had this look of such complete disappointment on his face. That was when I realized I hated my dad. I was eight years old and I hated my father and I felt so bad about it but I couldn’t not hate him and the fact that I did made me hate myself, too.”

Scott keeps revealing these things that he’s never even told Stiles and he finds that he can’t make himself stop. “And my mom’s worked so hard to try and pick up his slack and that’s the other reason I felt so bad about feeling stuck because I don’t want her to feel like her best wasn’t good enough because it is, and it always has been! God, she has done so much for me and overworked herself so much and she’s never complained apart from, like, the regular things about rude or angry patients and I’ve been working at the same place for just six years and I know that that’ll change soon and I still feel the same and I complain about it and I hate myself for it because I know I shouldn’t.”

He’s breathing heavily from finally unloading the thoughts that had been plaguing him more and more heavily over the past few months in a run-on sentence that could envy Stiles’ best and he’s too ashamed to meet Stiles’ gaze. He feels Stiles squeeze his hand this time.

“You don’t have to feel guilty for being restless, dude! We’re twenty! We should be living life to the fullest but instead we work forty-hour weeks, and our parents work even more than that, because we got the shitty end of the stick. We shouldn’t have to be doing so much yet. We just sort of got thrown into the deep end of adulthood without any floaties and we’re expected to just deal with it all when people like Jackson just skate by without even trying,” Stiles tells him.

“Jackson has enough parental issues of his own to deal with,” Scott comments, recalling Jackson’s minor identity crisis in the middle of junior year after he found out he was adopted.

“It was kind of nice to see him get knocked down a peg, though,” Stiles blurts out.

“Does that make me an awful person? Yeah, it kind of does.”

“Just a little,” Scott laughs.

“No, a lot,” Stiles starts because they’ve already gone this far, why not push it a little more, he decides. “I sort of hated my dad a little bit, too. Not right after my mom died but that year after. When she first died I remember understanding why he was so upset and being upset too and how dark those first few weeks were. Then we both put on brave faces for each other’s sakes and life started back up again. But then he got really bad again on the first anniversary. I didn’t understand it that time. I still acknowledged the fact that she’d been gone a whole year but I didn’t really understand the significance of it but it was so hard on my dad. I remember leaving for school seeing him lying on the couch and I’d get home from school and he’d still be there and the only way I could tell that he had moved is that there would be two bottles of alcohol next to him instead of one and he would just lie there so on the nights that I wasn’t over at your house for dinner or eating some of the food your mom made for me I would clean up his mess and go to bed so upset with him. I worked so hard to try and make things better and I just felt like he didn’t appreciate what I was doing. So when he finally did escape from his depression I decided to act out in school as retaliation and just make it harder on him when he finally was trying to be my dad again.”

Scott’s mind goes back to the days where Stiles would mouth off to the teachers without being provoked and all the days he would walk past Stiles sitting in the hallway outside the principal’s office on his way to the bus.

“God we had fucked up childhoods,” Scott says bluntly and Stiles lets out a genuine laugh as he nods. “But we’re still here! We got through all that shit! We just traveled across half the fucking country!” Scott flat out yells the last sentence and Stiles laughs again and Scott smiles for the first time that night and it’s an honest, wide smile. “We need to try and stop hating ourselves for things we did or felt in the past, and, yeah, that’s easier said than done, but I think we’ve put up with enough shit that we deserve that!”

Stiles nods, a smile on his face as well, the corners of his eyes crinkling at his friend’s impassioned speech.

“Deal?” Scott asks. His voice is quiet again as he looks back at Stiles.

“Deal,” Stiles replies.

A beat.

“Why couldn’t we have just said all that earlier?” Scott asks.

“Because you would’ve been more embarrassed by how sappy that was if you were fully awake. And let’s be honest, if we got that intense we probably would’ve crashed the Jeep. This conversation was meant for a setting like this.” Stiles pauses before adding, “it would’ve made the car ride today a hell of a lot less awkward though, huh?” Scott laughs.

Stiles unmutes the TV but they quickly fall asleep to the sounds of a laughing audience.

* * * * *

After showering and eating breakfast Scott asks, “What time we getting home today?”

“Why Scotty, we aren’t going back yet,” Stiles responds as though the question is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. He has a mischievous grin on his face and Scott is almost afraid to ask the next question.

“Where are we going?” He asks anyways.

To Scott’s disbelief, Stiles’ smile grows wider still. “All part of the adventure. And our adventure isn’t over yet,” he says as he hops behind the wheel of the Jeep. He looks expectantly at Scott until he gets in as well. He peels out of the parking lot with a laugh.

* * * * *

“Vegas?” Scott cries in disbelief as they reach the city limits many hours later and see the cluster of neon lights in the distance.

“God, you’re slow on the uptake sometimes,” Stiles replies. “You didn’t figure that out at the ‘Now Entering Nevada’ sign? Or when the amount of miles until Las Vegas kept getting smaller and smaller? Or notice that there is a song literally called _Vegas_ on the RTP Mix?”

“It just seemed really implausible! And that last one could’ve been pure coincidence.”

“The entire fact that we’ve been having a cross-country road trip for the past 6 days is implausible yet here we are,” Stiles says as they pull into the least sleazy-looking hotel they can find within a short walking distance from the strip. They get a room and toss their bags on the lone bed. Stiles insists they change into something more chic so Scott changes into the long-sleeved white button down shirt he thought to pack while Stiles changes into a casual dress shirt of his own and that’s when Scott realizes it.

“You planned this from the beginning! This was never part of the RTP!” Scott cries.

“We were drunk and didn’t know we’d have fake ID’s at our disposal when we recreated the RTP,” Stiles comments. He flashes a cat-like grin as he throws open the door. He extends his arm to lead Scott out to the parking lot. “Welcome, Scott, to the City of Sin.” They’ve just reached the edge of the strip when he adds, “let’s see if we can pay off some loans.”

Scott’s face drops and he stalls in the middle of the sidewalk. Stiles had continued walking but turns to give him an expectant look so Scott pushes away his feelings and follows Stiles into the first casino.

It turns out Scott is kind of a savant when it comes to blackjack and he’s up a couple thousand dollars by the time they’ve left the third casino. Stiles isn’t too far behind him when he combines the hot streak he had playing roulette in the second casino with the hot streak he had on the slots in the third casino. The first casino was a different story but Stiles figures he was just warming up.

They walk into the smoky bar that’s connected to the latest casino. There’s a pretty blonde in a tight red dress singing jazz in an equally smoky voice. Stiles decides, though Scott isn’t sure how, that whiskey sours are the appropriate drink for their location and they eat wings and drink. Scott switches to gin and tonics (his choice for an appropriate casino drink) but Stiles is too stubborn to admit that he’s learned he thinks whiskey sours awful so he keeps drinking them as they eat. Stiles’ hot streak ends at the next casino and he stops playing. He watches Scott play blackjack for a few hands before Scott quits too. They cash out their winnings and they make their way back to the hotel, stumbling slightly. 

“Well,” Stiles says with a clap of his hands, “let’s check out our winnings, shall we? Pay off some tuition,” he says looking at the money piled in two separate stacks in Scott’s bag.

Scott stalls and Stiles reaches his breaking point.

“Scott, why do you keep freezing up every time someone brings up college? I thought we talked about this! Besides, you didn’t even go!” Stiles says in frustration.

“That’s why I’m freaking out, Stiles!” Scott finally admits. “Both you and Lydia keep saying I’m not going to get stuck but I couldn’t even legally give shots to people I was treating until a few weeks ago and now I’m going to be, like, legitimately responsible for peoples’ lives now and I can’t even legally drink yet! I know that’s what I signed up for but I’m expected to be ready to jumpstart the next step in my life and I’m worried I’m not! I’m scared that I’m not ready, that I’ll mess up! You still have time before you have to really do that. I mean, you’re leaving for Fullerton in a few months and you’ll still have time, but for me, on top of everything else my best friend and only friend I still have left in Beacon Hills is gonna be, like, 6 hours away and that freaks me out!” He drops down onto the bed roughly.

“You think I’m not scared, Scott? You keep talking about not wanting to be stuck yet now that there’s going to be change you’re backing down! Scott, you have to stop giving in to your self-doubt! I’m afraid of that change, too. I don’t get some freshman orientation to test the waters, I’m getting thrown right in and I’m afraid I’m going to drown, Scott, and you aren’t going to be around to help keep me afloat.”

“I’m always going to be around to help keep you afloat, Stiles,” Scott protests. “But, fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize. It’s just every time you mentioned it you sounded so happy and I wanted you to be happy so I didn’t want to bog you down with my worries. I tried to just ignore them by not talking about them at all and I guess I sort of did the same with yours. I hid them away to avoid them and that was wrong but it was a lot less painful than admitting the fact that you’re going to be gone and I’m going to be alone here and –. “

“Hey, Scott, look at me,” Stiles says to cut him off, his tone softer than it’d been for most of their conversation as he sits down on the bed next to him. “First off, you’re going to be an amazing paramedic. We both know your mom is, like, single-handedly the reason the hospital runs as smoothly as it does and you’ve got her blood in your veins. Secondly, I was trying to keep up my brave face because I thought you seemed so sure of yourself and you had shit mapped out and I didn’t even decide on a major until, like, two months ago, so all this was sort of just a giant miscommunication on both our parts. Thirdly, I’m not going anywhere. Well, I am, as we’ve just loudly come to terms with but you know what I mean. We’re different from Lydia or Allison. They’ve only known each other since the start of sophomore year. You’ve known me for as long as I can remember, you know everything about me. Scott, you're my best friend, okay. Scott, you're my brother.” Scott gives him a weak smile, but Stiles keeps going.

He grabs Scott’s hand and places it against his chest. “Feel my heartbeat, dude. It’s constant. That’s what we are for each other. Despite all the shit I’ve gone through, and all the shit you’ve gone through, we’ve remained constant.” Stiles presses his hand against Scott’s chest and says, “see, you know it’s true,” with a laugh. “We’re always gonna have each other’s backs. I’ve got you, you have me. It doesn’t matter if we live ten minutes away from each other or six hours. Constant.”

Scott feels Stiles’ heart beating against his palm and whispers in return the sound it makes. “Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.”

They fall asleep side by side, just like they did that first night in Somewhere, Wyoming, in a room striped with red and turquoise blue light coming through the blinds from the neon sign of the Glen Capri Motel outside their window.

* * * * *

The morning is filled with a surprising easiness. They let out whoops of disbelief when they realize just how much money they each won last night and they shower in the cramped, dingy bathroom. Scott starts up the Jeep as Stiles throws their bags in the backseat.

“We’re going home,” Scott states.

“Yeah, yeah we are,” Stiles replies.

Scott grins. “Hell of a ride.”

Stiles grins back. “It’s not over yet.”

They high five in a parallel of that first day and they’re off for the last time.

The drive back is filled with comfortable silence, Stiles’ mix playing low, practically impossible to hear. Once they’ve swapped places after their bathroom break Scott finally has to say, “dude, we just traveled across, like, half the country.”

“And we got to see Lydia and Allison,” Stiles adds.

“And had some fantastic deep dish pizza.”

“And I kicked Lydia’s ass at pong.”

“And _everyone_ kicked my ass at pong.”

“And we saw the birthplace of fucking Kool-Aid!

“And the world’s largest pitchfork.”

“And we went to Vegas!”

“And we kind of kicked Vegas’s ass!”

“And I’d like to think that we learned a few life lessons along the way,” Stiles concludes.

“Like that we’re gonna be okay?” Scott suggests, a small smile splaying on his lips.

“We both already knew we were gonna be okay and you know it,” Stiles retorts. “But yes, I think the ridiculous amount of heart to hearts we had on this little journey only reaffirmed it.”

“We did kind of have a bunch of late night heart to hearts, didn’t we?” Scott laughs.

“It was either that or be forced to focus on the fact that none of the sons on _Malcolm and the Middle_ have really done anything since the show ended or how badly that last motel smelled like some gross mix of gasoline and death.”

“Seriously, what the fuck was up with that place? I get that we were in Vegas and we were on the outskirts of the strip, but Jesus!”

* * * * *

Weightless comes on when they’re only a couple of miles away from Scott’s house. They glance at each other, both knowing that this will be the last song to play on the RTP Mix. Scott begins to sing along loudly and Stiles cheers and joins in.

They’re so engrossed in singing that they almost don’t see a large shape dart into the road. They both yell as Stiles slams on the breaks and they jerk forward. The creature looks at them, yellow eyes gleaming, before vanishing again into the trees on the opposite side of the road.

“Holy shit!” Stiles cries. “Holy shit, we almost just died – was that a wolf? The fuck?”

Scott lets out a shaky laugh and says with a deadpan Stiles would be proud of, “so we’ll be okay as long as we don’t die in a car crash because of wolves.”

“Apparently,” Stiles replies as he presses the accelerator again. “Fuckin’ wolves.”

Scott laughs with a nod. “Fuckin’. Wolves.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were curious, here's the full track listing of the RTP Mix; I meant to put it into an 8tracks but I haven't had the time - once again, I don't own any of these songs
> 
> RTP MIX  
> 1\. Weightless – All Time Low  
> 2\. Good Life – One Republic  
> 3\. Pumped Up Kicks – Foster the People  
> 4\. You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid – The Offspring  
> 5\. Open Road Song – Eve 6  
> 6\. New Direction – Black Lips  
> 7\. Wild and Young – American Bang  
> 8\. Tubthumping – Chumbawamba  
> 9\. The First Single – The Format  
> 10\. Feeling This – Blink-182  
> 11\. Drive – Incubus  
> 12\. Blitzkrieg Bop - The Ramones  
> 13\. Vegas – All Time Low  
> 14\. Bad Talk – Kids of 88  
> 15\. It’s Time – Imagine Dragons
> 
> Once again, I tried to be as accurate as possible for a possible track list of a CD that Stiles would make basing it off of the All Time Low poster in his room in the show, their favorite bands listed on their _Teen Wolf: The Hunt_ profiles, and other bands sounding similar to those, with a few 'road-centric' songs thrown in because I feel like they both would appreciate the humor of that.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at scottmcstark.tumblr.com!


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